Celebration (42 page)

Logan refused to give up. “Woodie was a stand-in for me. You just refuse to admit it. I had a hard time with that at first, but I'm okay with it now. When I'm gone you're going to miss me. You'll never really know, will you, Kristine?” He saw the blossoming doubt in her eyes. He hammered home his point. “Will you, Kristine?”

“Do you think my going to bed with you will make me realize you are the one and only love of my life? Is that what you believe, Logan,? When I look back now I realize what we had was sex, not love. I was the one doing all the loving and giving. You just went through the motions. I think I even knew it then but refused to acknowledge it. I was afraid you'd leave me. I thought I needed you to make my life complete. My God, I even allowed myself to turn into an alcoholic because I thought if you weren't in my life, I would curl up and die.”

Logan felt shaken by Kristine's words. “Okay, if that's how you want to delude yourself, be my guest. I accept that you love Woodie. I also accept the fact that you refuse to acknowledge your feelings for me. I guess I'll say good night. Oh, what have we here? You didn't tell me they hooked up the new computer.”

“They must have done it after I left. I guess Pete let them in.”

“Who cleaned out the storage room?”

“I did some of it this afternoon before I left to meet you. I guess Pete did the rest while they were installing the computer. You need to thank him.”

“I will, first thing in the morning.”

“I have to check the dogs,” Kristine said.

“I'll walk with you. I always loved the way old barns smell. I wonder why that is. Remember how we used to make out in the straw in the loft?”

“No, I don't remember that,” Kristine said.

“Liar,” Logan said softly. “Remember how we used to fool around under that old peach tree?”

“No, I don't remember that.”

“Liar,” Logan whispered.

“Logan, before we sold your parents' house, Emily found some stuff under the attic steps. It was in the storage room. I was going to throw it out, but in the end, I didn't. There was a cape, a flashlight, some pillows, blankets and piles of
National Geographics.
They were so well read and tattered I had to wonder if they meant something special to you.”

Logan's heart skipped a beat. “Just a place to hide so I wouldn't have to do chores. You know how kids are. I forgot all about that until you mentioned it just now. That was a long time ago. It looks like all the dogs are okay. Everyone is sleeping. Let's roll around in the hay. Just for fun, Kristine.”

“You never did anything for fun in your life, Logan. The answer is no. I'm going up to bed.”

Before she knew what was happening, Logan had her in his arms. He carried her over to one of the empty stalls that held fresh straw. “I'm going to make love to you, Kristine, whether you like it or not.”

“No you aren't, Logan. Don't make me fight you. I'm telling you no. Damn you, Logan, no means no!”

Logan's response was to rip at her dress. The sound of tearing fabric was like thunder in Kristine's ears. She felt the clasp of her bra open and Logan's sweaty hands on her breasts.

“Damn you, Logan, let me go. Don't do this. Please don't do this, Logan.”

“Shut up, Kristine, and lie back and enjoy your husband making love to you.”

“You aren't my husband. This is rape, Logan. Get off me. Get off me right now.”

“Shhh, Kristine.”

Logan zipped up his pants as he watched Kristine run out of the barn and out to the field. Where the hell did she think she was going at this time of night? He gave a moment's thought to running after her but negated the thought almost immediately. She was all grown-up. If she wanted to act like a silly teenager, that was her problem.

Anger rivered through him as he walked toward the house. In the whole of his life this was the first time a woman had fought him off. A woman who didn't want anything to do with him. A woman who said she hated his fucking guts. “You're going to pay for that one, Kristine. Big-time,” Logan muttered.

When he sat down at the brand-new computer, he had a bad moment. What if Kristine returned with Woodie? Woodie would want to lay him out cold if Kristine gave a blow-by-blow description of what happened. Still, it was her word against his. Sometimes sex got a little rough. Sometimes clothes got torn or discarded in the excitement of passion.

He needed to give some serious thought to moving up his departure date.

Logan's fingers tapped the keys furiously. He'd promised to input all the files from the attic, and he was going to keep his word. As his fingers flew across the keyboard, he mentally calculated the money he had stashed in his Swiss account. The numbers had swelled since Stedman Clovis's check cleared. Once he cleaned out the Summers account, he would be so golden he would glow. With Clovis dying, Maureen wouldn't be in any hurry to ask for an accounting. He would make arrangements to meet her somewhere after the big event. Christ, he hated widow's weeds. She'd go the whole nine yards, too. The grieving widow decked out in designer black from head to toe. She'd probably even wear one of those black veils. He wondered if he was underestimating the soon-to-be-widow just the way he'd underestimated his ex-wife. Was it possible he was losing his charm? Was he giving off some bad vibes that women picked up on?

Logan smiled when a parade of numbers marched across the seventeen-inch computer screen. He did love electronic banking. Even Kristine was impressed with it, once he showed her how it was done on his laptop.

Logan shoved a disk into the hard drive to transfer the files he'd done previously on his laptop. He worked steadily until the sun came up. He stopped, made coffee, showered, and sat back down at the computer. Two more hours and his work would be done and his promise kept. Kristine would thank him profusely when she returned. It would make her life a lot simpler.

At ten o'clock, when there was still no sign of Kristine, Logan turned off the computer and pocketed the disks. He scribbled a breezy little note to leave on the kitchen table. It was time for a trip into Washington to visit Stedman Clovis and to see how Maureen was holding up.

Logan turned his Bronco around and headed out to the main road. He looked into the rearview mirror to see if anyone exited the barn. Everything was quiet, even the dogs. He wondered what it meant.

Kristine watched her ex-husband from her crouched position behind the old John Deere riding mower in the garage. When she was certain Logan was out of sight, she finally moved, looking first to the right and to the left to see if Pete was anywhere nearby. Satisfied, she clutched her ripped dress and ran around to the front of the house. Inside, she drew a deep breath and ran up the steps to the second floor, where she locked herself in her room.

She stripped down and then wadded her clothes into a tight ball that she tossed into the fireplace. The match flickered and then caught the edge of the fabric. Her chest heaving, Kristine watched until the clothes were nothing more than ashes. Satisfied that there were no signs left of her encounter, she marched to the bathroom where she showered until the water ran cold. That night was something she was never, ever going to think about or talk about again.

Never, ever.

 

 

“Where's Mom, Pete?” Cala asked as she jumped out of the car.

“I guess she's in the house. Is something wrong?”

“No. I just wondered where she was. I saw Woodie in town when I stopped at the automatic teller. He asked how she was. I thought she might want to know.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him she was miserable. She is, you know. He didn't ask about Dad at all. He said to say hello. He looks as miserable as Mom does.”

“It's not our business, Cala.”

“Yes, it is. Pete, why can't I feel anything for my father? We wave to one another. I don't think we've said ten words in three months. Should I be doing something? You know, make overtures or something?”

“I think you should do whatever feels right to you. One of us needs to go on the Internet to search out information on your father's condition. I'm the first to admit I know nothing about dialysis, but I thought, and I don't know where the thought came from, that a person on dialysis was pretty debilitated and couldn't do things most people do. Your father is driving a car, going into the city, working around the house. To me he looks as good as he did the night he arrived. Is this something that hits you all at one time or is it a slow process? We should know that, Cala. Does your mom know?”

“I don't know, Pete. We aren't hooked up to the Internet.”

“There is now a state-of-the-art computer system in your storage room. Get us hooked up.”

“Sure, honey. I had a terrible dream last night.”

“So did I. I don't want to talk about bad dreams. We're living one. Do you want me to pick the girls up from preschool?”

“Sure, if you don't mind. They just hate it. Tell me again why we're making them do something they don't want to do?” Cala said.

“They need to learn how to get along with other children. It's going to broaden their horizons. They learn to share with others.”

“That's a crock, and you know it. How can it be that beneficial when they refuse to cooperate? They stay by themselves and suck their thumbs. Mrs. Ainsely is about to boot both of them out of her preschool.”

“Okay, okay, I'll give notice when I pick them up.”

“As of tomorrow. I can't take the crying and the wailing every day. I think they're starting to hate us for making them go there. Today is the last day.”

“Does this have something to do with your dream or your father, Cala?”

“Probably. I don't ever want them to feel the way I felt about my mom for a while or the way I feel about my father. Go get them now, Pete!”

“Right now?”

“Right now. Do I need to do anything here?”

“It's under control,” Pete said. “What was the dream, Cala?”

“I followed up on the lawsuit Mike and I started years ago. Dad was served papers at the airport as he was leaving us. Again. Mom was standing on the tarmac crying her eyes out and begging him not to leave us.”

A chill ran up Pete's arms. “That's a nightmare all right.”

“I'm going up to the house. Are you sure you want me to sign up to go on-line?”

“Yeah.”

Cala whistled for Gracie and Slick to follow her up to the house. Her mother's car was parked in front, but there was no sign of her. “Go get Mom, Gracie.”

The little dogs ran to the kitchen steps.

Cala saw the note addressed to her mother. She knew she shouldn't read it. She walked away, opened the refrigerator, and took out a bottle of soda. If she didn't touch the letter, did that count as reading it? By stretching her neck she was able to decipher the scrawled note. She swore at that moment she could feel her blood start to run cold.

Cala carried her soft drink out to the back porch. What did the note mean? Had her mother lost her senses? Was the note some kind of trick? Where was her mother? Obviously she was still upstairs, and it was the middle of the afternoon. She felt her insides start to churn at the thought of her mother lying in bed dreaming about her father. “Damn.”

Gracie whined at her feet. Cala bent down to pick her up. “Couldn't find her, hush? Okay, let's go upstairs and see what's going on.”

It was so quiet on the second floor, Cala shivered. Bright sunlight shone through the wavy glass of the old windows, casting rainbows on the walls. It looked so pretty, she traced one of the patterns with her finger. Gracie whined in her arms.

“Mom, are you up here? Gracie and Slick want in, Mom,” Calla said, knocking on her mother's door. “Mom, are you all right?”

Kristine opened the door and reached for Gracie. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing's wrong. I just wanted to tell you Pete and I agreed to take the girls out of preschool. Pete went to get them. Dad left a note on the table for you. You look awful, Mom. Do you have one of your headaches?”

“I didn't sleep well. Is there any coffee?”

“Not fresh. I can make some. I just got here a little while ago. Pete wants me to sign up to go on-line.”

“That's interesting. I hear you can become addicted to it.”

“I don't have time to get addicted. Are you coming downstairs?”

“Of course.”

Cala followed her mother down the stairs. She watched as Kristine picked up the note to read it. She blinked when she saw the note being crunched into a ball and the way her mother's hands were trembling.

“What's wrong, Mom?”

“Nothing. Why do you ask? Oh, you read the note, is that it?”

“Yeah, Mom, I read it. I'm afraid to ask you what it means.”

“Then don't ask,” Kristine said as she rinsed out the coffeepot. “If you have some free time, I'd like you to help me with something.”

Cala felt as though she'd been slapped. “Sure, Mom,” she said flatly.

“I want you to help me pack up your father's things. We'll put them all on the front porch. I want the door to the apartment locked, and I know somewhere around here we have some keys to this house. I want our doors locked from now on.”

“Mom, do you mind . . . ?”

“I mind. Either help me or go down to the barn.”

Cala bit down on her lower lip. “In boxes or bags?”

“I don't think it matters.”

“I'll start now, then,” Cala said, ripping dark green leaf bags out of a box from under the sink. “Just tell me this. Are you kicking him out?”

“Yes,” Kristine said curtly.

“Even though he's dying?”

“Yes.”

Cala shrugged as she made her way over to the small apartment over the garage.

Kristine walked into the storage room. The brand-new computer stared at her like a giant evil eye. She moved like a robot as she took her seat on the hard kitchen chair. She waited until the screen came to life before she opened the file that stored the bank balances of all her accounts. She almost fainted with relief when she typed in her password and watched the balances spring to life. When she saw that all the accounts were still intact she was so dizzy with relief, she had to put her head between her legs. She initiated a new password. In a million years, Logan would never come up with it. She typed in the word BETRAYED and once again clicked on the file that would show her the bank balances. Satisfied, Kristine turned the computer off.

In the kitchen, she picked up the phone to call Jack Valarian. “I'm ready to go back to work, Jack. Is tomorrow too soon? Fine, I'll look for you around ten. Yes, this is a good thing we're doing. I'm fine. Everyone is fine. Drive carefully.”

Kristine poured coffee. She watched as her daughter dutifully trudged across the yard, two lawn bags in her hands.

“That's it, Mom.”

“Two bags? That's all he had?”

“I guess when you're ... I guess he travels light. Clothes, a few books, his shaving stuff. Everything looks so
new.
”

“What about his briefcase and his laptop?” Kristine asked coldly.

“They weren't there. Maybe he took them with him or maybe he keeps them in the car. He is kind of secretive, Mom. Are you sure you're all right?”

“I'm fine, Gala.”

“If Dad is leaving, does that mean you and Woodie are back together?”

“No, Cala, that's not what it means. Jack is coming out in the morning, and we're going to start to disburse the monies. It's time. I'm sorry I didn't do it the first of the year the way I'd planned on doing. Still, the monies earned three months' more interest, so it isn't all that bad. When I'm finished, I think I'll take a trip. Would you and Pete mind watching Gracie and Slick?”

“Of course not, Mom. Where are you going?”

“I'm not sure yet. Someplace where I can get my head on straight. Maybe I'll go visit Sadie.”

“What about Dad . . . how long are you going to be away?” Cala asked fearfully.

“I don't know to both questions. Did you lock the apartment?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“I'm going to take the dogs for a walk. You said you wanted to use the computer, didn't you?”